


You Are Why (we can't have nice things)

by linascribbles



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: And would appreciate if you played along, Author thinks she’s funny, Cohabitation, Domestic Fluff, Family Shenanigans, Gen, Get it?, I love Andy i swear i just headcanon her as a terrible roommate, M/M, Nile Freeman Has the Team's Only Brain Cell, Nile Freeman is So Done, POV Nile Freeman, Post-Canon, Title is misleading bc author wanted to make the pun, U R Y… Uruguay, Uruguay - Freeform, no beta we die like they don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linascribbles/pseuds/linascribbles
Summary: The working title for this was "Andy vs chores" and then it got away from me.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 22
Kudos: 91





	You Are Why (we can't have nice things)

**Author's Note:**

> A better summary:  
> 
> 
> No beta so all mistakes are my own, but thanks go out to Leska for cheerleading me along on this as well as the discord server for enabling me <3

Nile learned a lot of new things in her first months as an immortal. Like when an item of clothing could be saved and when the bloodstains and gashes made it unrecoverable (apparently the grunge era had been quite up the other immortal’s alley). Or whether Leonardo Da Vinci dated his assistant (he did, quite devotedly). Also proper stances for a broadsword (she had a blast with that one, what millennial doesn’t want a sword?). And about the complicated relationship between Andy and chores..

Her time management _sucked_.

It was not even on purpose, or that she forgot. Whatever she said, her memory was actually really good (no memory was meant to store thousands of years’ worth of memories). She could easily recall what was in their current safe house before they entered, which door sagged and even the trick to get the stove turned on. All of those abilities were born out of the same reason why no one could ask her to do chores.

Her time perception was genuinely abysmal.

Of course, that was a lesson. And Nile was not about to let the fact lay, even before she learned it.

It all began when they made it to Uruguay. They were searching for a safe house in the Ciudad Vieja quarter of Montevideo. They had arrived after some fumbling, beating a hasty retreat after a clusterfuck of a job and taken whatever transport freshly-instated Copley had found for them. 

The streets were quiet that time of night and Andy was muttering and huffing ahead of them as they tried to find their way to a long-forgotten safe house. It had been in some language Nile hadn’t understood so she’d assumed it was cursing born of tiredness and her irritability with popular tourist spots. Besides, she’d been busy taking in her first taste of a new continent to really care. It was her first time in Latin America and she was eager to put her Spanish to use.

She sniffed the air as a particular oozy waft that wasn't a sea breeze caught her attention.

“Is that pot?” She wondered out loud just to start a conversation.

“Probably,” Joe replied, hiking his backpack on his shoulder with one hand, the other comfortably clasped with Nicky’s. “They legalized it a couple years ago. Same with same-sex marriage, but they call it, what is it?” He turned towards his partner. Nile could understand then the balminess that had blanketed them since they had set foot in the country. It wasn’t like they weren’t openly affectionate normally, particularly behind closed doors, but a same-gender couple did draw attention in some places. They’d had to tuck their bond away from prying eyes more times than not. Nile smiled, happy for them as she saw Nicky squeeze Joe's hand.

“Matrimonio igualitario,” the Italian provided. His Spanish had a Spaniard accent, in contrast to Nile's Puertorrican tilt, something she discovered only hours ago and was looking forward to teasing him about.

“Equal marriage,” Joe unnecessarily translated, still staring at his lover’s eyes. “I quite like that expression.”

“So weed is legal?” She brought them back to the initial subject.

“Yes,” Nicky nodded, breaking his eye contact to bring the conversation back on track. “Controlled by the state but legal for medicinal and recreational use.”

“ _Sweet_ ,” she grinned. “Could we buy some?”

“We should have some money stored away in the safe house," Andy called back to them from her place ahead of them.

"I think they sell it in pharmacies," Joe mused, eyes trailing on the empty dark street as if one would appear out of thin air.

"The Canada of Latin America," Nicky added with his faint smile. "Book-" the unused name seemed to choke him, and the lingering ghost of their exiled teammate surged between them. Silence hung thick and significant for a few seconds. Nile knew at this point that Booker had been the most tech-savvy of them all, the one that made a point to follow trends and keep them on the loop of the important cultural developments. She had more than once wondered if she'd ever get to exchange memes with him (would memes still be a thing a hundred years in the future? She despaired at the possibility of outliving them). She'd tried with Nicky once to terrible results. Joe was better, but much too interested in the cultural significance of each of them that letting them pass week after week like any other millennial. Andy didn’t even bother checking messages. "Anyway, he used to say they call it that."

"I don't know if Uruguayans appreciate it." She worked to dispel the awkwardness in the air.

"We'll have to ask," Joe added as they neared an intersection.

Andy had fallen silent ahead of them in the last minute but let out a pleased ‘ _aha!_ ' as she turned the corner.

They followed and found her picking the padlock of a decaying house. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the nicely manicured, painted ones that had clearly been restored to maintain their touristy appeal. The windows were tightly shut and the wooden shutters rotten behind the iron bars.

Nile was starting to suspect her long, immortal life was not going to be a lavish one. If the small backpack she was carrying and the two changes of clothes she had (one already on her person), was anything to go by at least.

The lock finally gave and Andy unwinded the heavy chain and pushed the door open with a small grunt. The distinct waft of old stale air of a room closed for too long reached them and Nile wrinkled her nose at it, still unused to it.

They entered and she coughed as the disturbed dust clogged her airways. She waved her hand around in front of her face as if that'd work. With a flick of her wrist she turned on her phone’s flashlight and followed in after the others. 

"Damn this is an old one."

"No, it can't be," Andy protested. "I was here recently and Joe and Nicky came here not long ago."

"No," Nicky replied from further in. "We were in Chile in the nineteen seventies, not Uruguay."

"That's more than 40 years ago," Nile felt the need to point out. _I wasn't even born yet_.

"Exactly, not long ago," Andy pipped in from further in, not a trace of irony in her tone. 

Nile took a deep breath and as she exhaled locked eyes with Joe, who seemed to be the only one to realize what she had meant. The small, complicit smile he shot her way cracked an answering chuckle in her. 

_God what even is my life._

Foolishly she tried to reach by the doorway for a non-existent light switch. Of course, her hand only found old wallpaper and dust. She sighed.

“No electricity,” she informed them and got three quite unperturbed looks in return. _Right, electrical light is an optional novelty for them._ “No light.”

“Oh yeah, maybe there’s an oil lamp somewhere. No oil though. They were setting up the street gas lamps when I was here,” Andy mused wistfully before her features hardened. “The fees for breaking them were shit, though.”

Any other occasion Nile would have asked for further information, but this time she was too fucking tired.

They spent the next couple of hours settling in by their phone’s flashlights, a routine that was becoming increasingly familiar. They opened windows and rustled through piles of decaying old clothes and weapons to find some sheets that hadn't been eaten by moths. They didn't find any so they had to opt for their trusty sleeping bags.

Nile rolled her eyes as she saw Nicky and Joe walk in one of the main bedrooms with only one roll between them. This time it was Andy the one that shot her an amused but understanding look. 

It was only when all of that was done and Nile felt covered in grime that she went to the bathroom and was unpleasantly surprised again.

“No water. Great,” she muttered, swallowing down the more colourful turns of phrase on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to not having a daily shower, she _had_ been in the army, but it was still frustrating. The trip there had been long, the cleaning had left her dirty and she just wanted a night without feeling the grit of dirt underneath her. 

_At least it's not sand, damn desert sand that got_ everywhere. 

With a defeated sigh, she turned back to her bedroom and settled in for an uncomfortable night. Thankfully, her ire was soothed by the open windows and the soothing presence of the constant sea breeze. 

In the morning, they cobbled a breakfast of instant coffee and toast they managed to buy at a grocery store around the corner with the American dollars they had at hand along with essentials like soap, toothpaste, a big jug of drinkable water, shampoo and a chocolate bar. Nile had had to cajole the teenager at the register so he'd take her bills, not everywhere accepted American dollars and they weren’t looking their best either. It was too early for the exchange houses to be open yet and Andy kept insisting there was some cash stored away and she was very close to remembering exactly where. 

Nicky turned his nose up both at the subpar coffee and the meagre untoasted bread but still ate.

Andy rolled out of bed way later than all of them, grumpy but seemingly rested. She proceeded to wolf down everything in a two meter radio of her and went straight to her morning exercise routine. She was in the middle of a one armed push-up when she let out an exclamation in a language Nile didn't know and rolled to her feet. 

Nile looked at her from her perch on the old couch, phone in hand and one eyebrow raised as she began to tap the wooden floorboards with her foot. After a minute one made a hollow thunk. Producing a knife from somewhere in her person, Andy knelt down and started prying the floor up. Nile knew better than to try to stop her so she walked closer to peer at her actions. A couple seconds later the wooden plank came out with a groan and an old, rusted tin came into view, hidden on the floor. 

"Told you I had hidden cash somewhere." Andy grinned at her and took the box out. With some shuffling to break through the rust and a squeaky sound, it opened. Inside there was a fat pile of surprisingly well preserved papers. Andy took them out and below revealed an assortment of seemingly gold coins. "See, plenty of money now. You can buy whatever you want from the grocery store." Nile rolled her eyes at her petulant tone, already knowing what followed. "I hunted all my meals for thousands of years and now everyone panics if you're missing some measly pieces of paper. I'm older than paper itself, motherfuckers," at this point she was past chastising Nile and into grumbling at the general present state of the world and particularly at capitalism. Not an unusual occurrence.

Nile hid her snort behind a scrap of the tin as she brought it closer to herself to take a better look at the stash. The gold was good, at least that precious metal was enough of a constant that they usually could count on some wealth at hand. That is, if they were given the time to find and sell to an interested party. Sometimes the way it was forged wasn't immediately market-appropriate, but the worth remained.

The bills, however, were another subject. As Nile flipped through them, a sneaking suspicion rose in her. 

"Andy, when did you say you were here last?" 

"Not that long ago, a couple decades I think. Why?" 

"Because I think it was more like a couple of centuries," she put the papers down and picked up her phone again. She typed in a couple things, thanking the satellite service, there was no way she'd get WiFi then. Not that it mattered given the battery was one breath away from dying. A short video made by the Uruguayan Central Bank confirmed her suspicions. "Yeah, no. This currency is out of date by about 100 years." She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't even State regulated by then. We can't use it except for selling it to a collector. And that'd take time."

"So no empanadas for dinner?" Andy sat back on the floor, an irritated frown on her forehead.

"No empanadas for dinner," she confirmed, her mouth a matching grim line.

Her phone flashed one last time and died. Nile closed her eyes from one long second, gathering strength.

That should have been a heads up. Nile should have realized. But she didn't. She didn't make the connection and instead foolishly, naïvely, asked Andy if she could do their laundry. The house obviously didn't have a washing machine and they still didn't have Uruguayan pesos to pay for a laundromat. They’d have to do it by hand in the sink and she was a firm believer that chore assignments made for harmonious cohabitation.

She asked her on the second morning of their arrival, as she was doing her exercise routine and Nile was going out to explore the city. They had left with minimal luggage and after the trip their clothes sorely needed a wash already. She got a grunted ‘okay’ as a reply and promptly forgot all about it.

Joe and Nicky were already outside waiting for her. They’d promised to explore with her and help her look for some pawn shop or collector that would be open to taking their old-ass money in probably too-good state without questions. Copley hadn’t managed to set them up with some cash or an account in such short notice and he was stretched thin with the cover-up of the last job already. 

Yet again, the ghost of Booker’s tech expertise hung heavy over their heads. 

It was high summer season, January heat blurring the horizon and it was easy to get lost amid the crowds. The new year was just around the corner and people were evidently still in a festive mood. They weaved through the crowds, taking in the colonial and picturesque architecture. The sea breeze made the weather bearable and Nile got whiffs of pot every once in a while that reminded her of their conversation. Given the lack of funds though, her legal weed would have to wait. They were in downtime so it wasn’t like she was in a hurry.

They came across the Plaza de la Diversidad Sexual out of pure coincidence and Nile (at Joe’s insistence) took a photo of the other two there. Joe’s phone was threatening to die soon as well, she noted as she snapped a frankly adorable picture. As they were looking at the commemorative photos and art, a couple of women walked by and struck up a conversation with them. 

Their own mix of accents and looks led to some expected but awkward questions that they had to fend off. To their credit, the women seemed to understand that their backstory wasn’t something they were comfortable chatting about and quickly dropped the subject.

“Y vosotros habéis visitado antes?” Nicky asked politely, green eyes attentive and Nile had to suppress a snort.

As the couple spoke of their holidays, Joe talking over the conversation swiftly, Nicky shot her an inquiring look. Unable to let go of her amusement, she mouthed “vosotros” at him around a smirk. He shook his head at her even as the corner of his lips quirked and Nile knew that meant he was smiling too.

It turned out the couple were Uruguayan as well, but not from Montevideo so they were visiting too. They said their goodbyes not long afterwards and decided to make their way back to the safe house as it was getting late.

They were a block away when Nile remembered the gold coins juggling in her purse. However, by then it was too late for any exchange house or pawn shop to be open. They’d have to go the next day and bullshit their dinner somehow.

They got back to the house to find Andy on the phone with Copley, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“A second,” she said curtly before putting the call on speaker and gesturing them to come closer on the couches to hear. “Okay go on.”

“The money will probably have to wait, I’m sorry,” Copley said, in what Nile supposed was a repeat of what he’d already told Andy. “I’m trying to be extra cautious. I can’t just transfer them to an Uruguayan bank and have you walk in to retrieve it, not after the last job.”

His tone was far from chastising (Copley knew better than to try to tell them how to do their job) but Nile winced at the memory nevertheless. Andy hissed and a muscle in Joe’s jaw tickled, making his soft beard move. Last mission was why they were laying low in a country whose extradition laws were restricted to the highest of crimes and an assortment of individual treaties (none of which covered their earlier destination). Not that any of them existed in any record, but still. They did try to make Copley’s work easier. On occasion.

“The clean up is taking longer than I expected and without first access to your offshore accounts it’s hard.” He huffed an exasperated sigh and Nile had to lean in to put a hand on Andy to stop whatever irritated reply she was about to voice.

“It’s fine, Copley, we understand. Any news on the collectors we texted you about?”

“I think so, there’s a guy by the name Rodriguez right there in Montevideo who seems interested, I’m running a background check and-” with a sad chirp, Andy’s phone died.

All their shoulders slumped simultaneously, and if Nile wasn’t so frustrated she’d have laughed at their synchronicity.

“Anyone have battery?” She asked the group. Negative replies all around.

Joe leaned back on the couch, raising his arms to the back of his head and settling in.

“So…” he trailed off. “We have no running water, no electricity, no gas and barely any money.” Then unbelievably, he chuckled, “just like old times.” He shared one of those long lingering looks with Nicky that never failed to remind Nile that she was sharing space with humanity’s longest committed couple.

“Just like old times,” the other man echoed, his lips expanding into his quiet smile.

“It’s summer so there’s plenty of daylight,” Andy started and Nile could immediately tell there was an I Am Very Old Let Me Teach You monologue coming. She fought the impulse to roll her eyes. “The stove runs on wood anyways so we don’t need gas, we can just go find some branches and-”

“We’re in the middle of the city!” Nile interrupted her. “We can’t just ‘find some branches’.” She kept on over Andy’s attempt to speak, “and no, you can’t chop down a tree from a random city square, it’s illegal and, may I mention, extremely conspicuous.”

Andy turned towards her, staring for a second before her eyes flicked to the other two, whatever she saw there made her crack a smile.

“She’s got a point, boss.” Joe said. A pause. “It’d draw too much attention.”

“Fine,” Andy conceded, rolling her eyes. “Then we need wood, we have water to drink and the beach to clean ourselves. It’ll probably rain tonight so we can gather water for baths or whatever.” She shrugged. “The only problem is food, really.” she finished, leaning back on the couch like she had just solved their problems.

“Money,” Nile gritted out, “the _problem_ is money.”

“You heard Copley, he has someone willing to buy the coins we have. Rodriguez, he even lives here.”

This time it was Nicky the one who cleared his throat to speak, “Rodriguez is a pretty common surname, and we have no way to track him down. No phones, not even a phone book.”

Nile was so thankful someone was seeing sense that she didn’t even tease him about how hard he pronounced the z.

“Exactly. So no more money in our immediate future, we need to make what we have count.” She sighed. “Which means budgeting. Great. My passion,” she deadpanned.

They went over their meagre clothes, revising jean pockets, shaking jackets and upturning backpacks to drain them all of every single penny they had. An hour later they had the staggering amount of twenty dollars and a dime in pennies, five euros and surprisingly, a rumpled bill of seventy five rupees. Their exit really _had_ been rushed.

“Alright, not counting the rupees which I have no idea about, all this is about seven hundred Uruguayan pesos if we can get it changed. Not terrible… I think.” She moved the money around and looked up at the group. “So, what do we need?”

“ _Good_ coffee,” Nicky was the first one to speak up.

“I really want some empanadas,” Andy added. “And Vodka.”

“Is seafood expensive here?” Joe asked in a pensive tone.

 _Lord give me strength,_ Nile prayed, hand twitching with the urge to reach out to the golden cross that hung on her neck. _Choose your battles, you can’t win them all, Freeman._ She resolved the best course was to ignore them until they provided something actually useful.

“The drinkable water we have, we can probably make it work for a couple more days. We have shampoo but no way to actually shower until we collect rain water. And the bread is probably enough for tomorrow only. We should get basic ingredients and cook, that’s cheaper right? Though we don’t have a fridge to keep the food, damn it.”

Seeming to pick up on her frustrated mutterings, the rest of the group fell silent.

“I haven’t cooked in a firewood kitchen in a while,” Nicky interjected softly and she knew that was an offer. She smiled at him, already feeling her frustration start to dissipate. It wasn’t like they could starve to death right? Well, Andy could but she figured the woman was pretty capable of surviving without too much food either way.

“You could make bread, it’s cheap and filling. And you’ve always made wonderful loaves with firewood,” Joe said, never one to pass an opportunity to praise his husband. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some air-curated cheeses too. I _almost_ miss lamb jerky.” he mused, eyes lost into some centuries-old memory.

“Bread then,” Nile accepted, ignoring his genuine yet frankly hipster inclinations and writing down the ingredients. “We could get coal for the stove, and I don’t know, rice maybe? Spaghetti? Some vegetables? It’s hard to guess without the prices.” How she wished her phone was still alive then.

“We’ll figure it out at the store,” Nicky said. “It’s late. We should sleep. A lot to do tomorrow.” The couple got up and with a muttered goodbye retired to their bedroom.

Nile scribbled down some other possible ideas for cheap foods before deciding they were right and there wasn’t much she could do before she had a price list. She thought of going back to her bedroom, she’d have to take a cup of water to brush her teeth and-

“That reminds me, where’s the laundry?” she asked Andy, who gave her a blank look for a second before waving her question away.

“I’ll get to it in a sec, don't worry about it,” Andy leaned back on the couch, seemingly not bothered by it. Thinking that meant she’d do it that night or maybe in the morning, Nile let it slide. Her clothes could stand one more wear. Thank god she hadn’t grabbed anything too light-coloured. Terrible for the heat, sure, but at least blood and other stains weren’t that visible on a dark wardrobe. 

Overpowered by her travel tiredness which she hadn’t gotten quite shaken yet (Immortality didn’t protect you from jet-lag, she’d found), she made her way upstairs to sleep.

They were the first clients at the exchange house that day, stalking the entrance for the second it opened. The teller gave them a quite pitying look when they produced their bills, likely thinking them millennial backpackers on the road to self discovery. All to change the grand amount of six hundred and twenty seven Uruguayan pesos. 

It turned out to be less than they’d originally thought.

That became quite obvious the second they walked into the supermarket. They lasted about fifteen minutes, browsing the aisles before Joe grew frustrated and shaking his head, swiftly ushered them out. After perusing the people around the entrance for some minutes, he marched to a couple. Nile and Nicky looked on, various levels of bewilderment in their faces as he struck up a friendly conversation effortlessly. A couple of words later, he was turning back towards them, a satisfied grin on his face.

“There’s a market not far away, made up of independent and organic producers.” Joe informed them and Nicky made an understanding sound before turning towards Nile to explain.

“My love loves a good sale. He used to be a merchant before we met and he’s never abandoned that at heart.” He had a besotted expression in his face as he gazed at the man who had his heart. 

Joe grinned back in reply, almost preening. His eyes lit up as he spoke, with a shine that was almost scary in its zeal, “I’m gonna make the very last penny worth twice it’s value.”

Nile snorted, disbelieving as they set on their way to the market, shepherding a disgruntled Andy along.

“The boss’ the same,” Nicky added in a conspirator tone, voice low so Andy wouldn’t hear. “Her methods are just less..." he searched for the word for a second. “Conventional.”

His tone didn’t seem to have been quiet enough, or maybe Andy just had superior hearing because she turned around at the last word with a sharp eyebrow raised.

“You can come at me with ‘conventional’ when it yields the same results,” she challenged.

“Hm, wanna bet on it?” Joe stepped in, looking eager.

“Looser does the laundry,” Andy stepped up and Nile sputtered.

“You _still_ haven’t done it? Andy we only packed like two sets of clothes!”

"I had to find a river and do it by hand _every other month_ , for thousands of years, Nile. Don't be ridiculous. It's been less than a week. And Joe’s a wonderful washer," her smirk was unabashedly cocky and before Nile could reply, Joe spoke.

“Deal. Who decides? Habibi, care to do the honours?” His proposal was swiftly shut down by Andy who shook her head.

“He’s biased, Nile should arbitrate. She’s the one who knows money better,” her tone was teasing and even though she rolled her eyes, Nile’s lips were definitely quirking upwards at their silliness.

_Ancient immortal warriors and they’re giving coupon moms a run for their money._

As it turned out, they weren’t talking out of their as. Being immortal from a time before standardized prices and late stage capitalism made you an _incredible_ haggler. 

Then again, Nile was 87% sure Andy paid for an irrational amount of arugula with her phone number. Number to a phone which, by the way, was still dead in their safe house. If it was even the real one that she gave out. Nile highly doubted it.

She was catching up to what Nicky had meant by ‘unconventional’ methods.

Nile herself got a couple good discounts on some organic eggs and green bananas that could hold up for a couple days, but that was more of a coincidence than an actual attempt to compete. She was the referee after all and had been deftly provided with pen and pencil (from Joe’s art supplies) to keep track of what they paid versus the listed price.

Joe came back with a bag of oranges at one point, and deposited them with a comment about how they prevented scurvy. 

“How long do you even think we’ll be here and without money, Joe?” She demanded his retreating back, but he ignored her, eyes already on the next purchase.

Giving up on her own attempts, she took a seat in a nearby bench. She people-watched as they brought inordinate amounts of food to her, like offerings to a benevolent goddess. At least, they sure tried to butter her up like one. She’d be irritated by their shenanigans if they weren’t so damn charming about it.

Nicky was much more subdued, he’d gotten a far smaller share of the money just like Nile and seemed to be content perusing various stands before deciding to buy anything. Bless his heart, his purchases were actually useful, like coal and wood for the stove. She saw him walk to Joe a few times and they browsed together, Joe seeming to ask his opinion on some items and prices.

About two hours after the bet was placed, both Andy and Joe were out of money, not one penny remaining and Nile was swarmed on both sides by a ridiculous amount of goods. Some useful, some frankly unnecessary.

_How, why and when did we end up with five coconuts??_

“So, what’s the verdict?” Andy asked when they called time, rubbing her hands together like an eager supervillain from an old cartoon.

“Let me finish the math, dammit,” Nile grumbled as she jolted down the last numbers.

She blinked at the results. The difference between how much they’d paid versus the listed prices was… staggering to say the least. It was a close call, Joe had only managed the win with the last item.

“Sorry Andy but you’ll have to do the laundry after all.” Nile attempted to infuse some sort of compassion into her tone but her clothes felt uncomfortable and she’d kill for a fresh pair of jeans. It was a vain attempt.

“No!” Andy protested over Joe’s cheers. “That’s not possible,” she snatched the paper from Nile’s hand, eyes running over her handwriting and muttering under her breath. Her head flew upwards at the last item, the honey that had been her sweet downfall.

“You motherfucker,” she cursed, eyes narrowed at Joe who was grinning from ear to ear and bouncing in place, way too pleased with his victory. “It was the honey, the one from the married lesbians. You fucker played the gay card, didn’t you? That’s _cheating_ ,” she accused. “I saw you go there with Nicky. By the way, very disappointed in you,” she added with a raised finger.

Nicky shrugged, looking completely unrepentant and quite amused. “All I did was hold his hand. It wasn’t against any terms.”

“Please,” Joe rolled his eyes, looking too giddy. “As if you hadn’t tried to get her number just five minutes earlier. How’s that any different?”

Andy fell silent for a second before dropping her eyes back into Nile’s devastatingly faultless math. “That I didn’t get lucky,” she grumbled in an undertone, dejected.

Nile lost it.

She let out a snort, and then a chuckle and then simply gave into the sheer absurdity of the situation and laughed until there were tears in her eyes and the rest were joining her. She tried to calm herself once, yet one glance at the coconuts had her losing control of herself yet again. 

Her life was turned upside down and more times than not she had no idea what to do. She felt intimidated and paralyzed by the vastness of the lives her new family had lived through and more so by what laid ahead of herself. Then, moments like these came along, that wouldn’t make sense if it _weren’t_ for their own peculiarity and felt yet so incredibly mundane. The certainty that it would all be fine rose inside of her. 

She could do this, one good moment at a time. 

They set off back to the safe house, looking like an ambulant market after some creative pilling and packaging. Andy continued to look slightly miffed at the defeat but there was no heat behind it. Especially after Joe managed to temper down his smug grin. Nicky might have had to whisper some things to him before that happened, in a language that Nile was precautionarily happy not to understand.

The second Nicky walked inside the house, he turned into a machine. Gaze focused, his usual soft spoken ways got swapped for curt orders on how, where and when to unpack, save, store and consume everything they’d bought.

“Damn, you’d make a terrifying chef,” Nile commented when he slipped into Italian for the second time, too focused on doing other things to spare the brainpower to code switch.

“I was a wonderful chef. None of my employees ever complained,” he replied offhandedly.

“You were a chef?” Nile asked as she arranged the wood underneath the stove.

“We’ve had plenty of jobs and businesses over the centuries. I’ve been a chef. Yusuf has made money with his art plenty of times. Andy was a hairdresser for a decade. Booker,” his voice caught at the name but he kept on. “He had a vineyard for a bit in the early nineteen hundreds. We all have downtime and the jobs don’t always pay,” he gestured around them like to say ‘look at us now, no money either’.

“Well, eternity or not, I’m _not_ doing retail again,” Nile vowed and was rewarded with a snort from behind her.

“Boss, can you cut those up? I need them to make dinner.”

“Sure, just let me- ah whatever, it’s clean enough,” Nile heard Andy reply but she was arranging the logs and paid no mind to it. It was only when she crawled back up and stood up that understood what she meant. 

Andy was cutting up their carrots with an intricately engraved dagger, cool as a cucumber.

“Did you wash that?” Nile asked, knowing the reply beforehand.

“I wiped it with my shirt, it's fine,” Andy waved her hand dismissively.

“You mean the shirt that hasn’t been washed in about a week?”

“It’s not been a week since the job, Nile,” was her infuriating reply.

“Yes, it has.”

She got not reply to that and by then the carrots were already chopped. Nile rolled her eyes and left.

 _It’s not like you can die or even get sick for long_ , a treacherous voice whispered in her ear, sounding too much like Andy for her comfort. _Don’t be fucking gross_ , she mentally shouted back at it. 

First thing she was going to do the second they had electricity and a laptop was a PowerPoint presentation on health and safety titled ‘Just because you can’t die, doesn’t mean you have to eat two hundred years old dirt with your veggies’. She could already envision the slides.

She spent the rest of the day practising her Arabic with Joe. Truth was she was further ahead on her Italian given the similarities with Spanish. However, Nicky was busy in the kitchen and while her French could have used some work well, that one was sort of off limits for the next one hundred years. 

Joe was teaching her using poetry, which they had found helped her remember the pronunciations easier. He knew so many by heart she could probably learn the whole language like that. The only downside of it, if it could be called that, was that Joe was literally the world’s oldest sap. He only knew love poems. And he was an incredible reciter, dammit.

They stopped when Nicky called them for dinner. Nile silently sent a prayer of thanks at the break. One more verse about the tenderness of love and she was either going to either kill Joe or burst into tears right there. 

They sat for dinner, which was hot and full, and an actual proper meal for once with a sort of smokey undertone that Nile found she really liked. 

All upsets from the lost bet had been forgotten for the moment, even if Andy had yet to do the laundry. By the time they finished they were all too full and busy heaping compliments on Nicky to bicker or call out unfinished chores anyway. 

Joe offered to wash the dishes and Nile dried them and put them away, working in tandem. Nicky tried to help with the pans but was firmly revoked with a kiss from Joe and a soft shove from Nile. He still hovered around as they worked, making idle conversation.

Nile took a glass of water upwards to brush her teeth, grumbling about the lack of working plumping and appreciating the fact that she had made her braids tight before the last job and they were still holding. Washing them with only buckets of rain water and two hands, one which had to hold said bucket, was a pain in the ass.

She’d give her left foot for a shower at the moment. Sure, it’d grow back but it was the principle of the thing. 

She hauled upwards a bucket of water, poured into the ridiculously fancy claw-footed tub and washed as best she could. Afterwards, she collapsed on the bedroll, unbelieving of how exhausting downtime could actually be.

She woke up early the following day, lured by the smell of coffee so strong it reached all the way to her bedroom. She remembered that Joe had managed to snag a bag of organic Peruvian beans and dragged herself out of the bedroll to reach the kitchen, knowing that once Nicky was there she’d have very little chance of getting between him and a cup of the decent coffee.

She stumbled out of the room, bouncing against the frame and towards the staircase. And in her semi-sleep haste, slipped. 

The tumble was certainly... a _way_ to wake up. 

Pain had always made her more alert. Not that it mattered when the thunk of her head against the door on the other side of the hallway as she finally reached the bottom promptly robbed her of any consciousness.

She resurfaces to the concerned gazes of Nicky and Joe, looking down at her and frowning. Her whole body hurt, particularly her head, and as her eyes focused she groaned at what she saw.

“Ugh I’m late.” Nicky had an old, chipped teacup in his hand, the strong smell of coffee reached her, helping to clear her head.

“Nile, are you alright?” He asked, thick brows furrowed in concern.

“Shit, did I die?” She tried to get up, taking stock of her body but the world tilted and she had to stop halfway. “How long was I out?”

“Not long but that was quite a fall,” Joe provided, his concern melting as the seconds passed and she started to regain her senses. “That desperate for breakfast?”

“Fuck off, there better be coffee left,” she cursed more to herself than him, wincing as she finished getting up. The pain was already disappearing, though the embarrassment would definitely take longer to fade.

“We’ve all had food related deaths,” Nicky reassured her in his heartfelt way as they made their way to the kitchen, though it was clear he still found her fall quite funny.

“I’m pretty sure being poisoned by an evil king or something equally epic does not compare to falling on the stairs for some toast,” she waved her hand at him.

“Booker’s weakness is cheese,” the unexpected reply made him look at him. Booker’s name wasn’t unheard of but the sting of his betrayal had evidently not passed yet. “He’s died at least five times by eating cheeses that had gone bad.”

“ _Really?_ ” She snorted.

“It’s true. Never mention Roquefort in front of him unless you're ready to listen for quite some time,” Nicky’s lips twitched as she laughed.

They spent the morning exchanging stupid deaths. First Nicky and Joe and then Andy, whose death count was probably 50% on ‘ate the wrong bush’ yet more than made up with the variety of the other 50%.

Apparently, Andy was quite happy that cannons were not a standard feature on ships anymore.

Halfway through a story about how she had died after _smoking_ the wrong bush, Andy paused.

“That reminds me, I got you something, Nile.” she disappeared out the door for half a minute before reappearing with a Ziploc bag and a small, thin box.

“How did you even get that?” Nile grinned as she realized that it was weed and rolling paper. 

“It’s legal here, don’t worry about it,” Andy dismissed her question and Joe snorted from his place at the table. “We should go to the beach to smoke it, we’d never get the smell out of the drapes.” Andy commented, as if the ‘drapes’ weren’t closer to glorified rags at that point.

“Ugh, I can’t wait till we have running water, Jesus,” she scratched at an itchy spot underneath her jaw. “I’m tired of bathing with rainwater.”

“Can’t do that till we have money at least, probably a lot of it. The house has been closed for so long they’ll probably want to do an inspection before they turn it back on and we can’t afford that with a limited budget.”

“We have to get back in touch with Copley, find some way to charge our phones,” Joe spoke up.

“Yusuf and I will go tomorrow, it’s a holiday today so any working café with open outlets will be closed anyways.” At Nile’s confused frown Nicky explained, “Día de Reyes, or epiphany, it’s another gift-giving holiday in very catholic countries.”

“The beach will be packed then,” Nile reasoned.

“All the more crowds to get lost in,” Andy commented, already going back for her backpack. The only way she could stand tourists was by using them as camouflage.

Not having any other plans, they packed lunch to go and set for the crowded beach, phoneless and with no swimsuits. They stood out in their jeans and t-shirts but not much. Andy rolled for them, another of her talents it seemed, and they spent the day basking in the sun. By the second joint, Joe and Nicky ventured into the turf, not caring for their wet clothes and blessing more than one onlooker as a deceptively low wave crashed into them and drenched their chests, sticking their shirts to their chests.

“They have no idea, huh?” Nile drawled, laughing through the haze and turning towards Andy.

“Oh not, they _definitely_ know. They’re just too busy ogling each other to notice the rest also enjoying the show.” She gestured with the temporarily extinct cigarette to the scattered and appreciative spectators.

Nile snorted, shared one look with Andy and they both dissolved into weed-induced giggles. They were heaving for breath soon enough as the sun shone on over them. People hoovered around them, each cluster minding their own business and therefore alone and lost in the crowd.

They stumbled into the house hours later, sun drunk and laughing. The collective buzz had long-ago passed. At least for the immortals, Andy might have been a bit high still, though she was coming down and about to get a good headache soon.

They shook the sand out of their skin and bodies as best they could. Thought as sand was bound to do, it lingered, burrowed and appeared where it had no business being.

Joe was shaking his curls, the dreadful yellow dust falling from them like a soft cascade when he turned to the side.

“Boss, did you pay up your bet yet, did you do the laundry? I could use some clean jeans,” He called out with a smirk, like he already knew what the answer was.

“Ugh,” Andy’s voice came from the kitchen where she had gone to get them glasses of water. “I forgot, I’ll do it in a minute.”

Nile’s nostrils flared as she heard the well-worn phrase. She had a chillingly moment of realization when all of her mother’s grumbling about procrastinated chores and lazy teenagers were suddenly too understandable. She took a deep centring breath, willing herself to not lose it and ruin her otherwise wonderful day. 

“And what do you suppose we wear then?” Joe needled on. “This is not very sportive of you. You lost, pay up, Andromache.”

“Go search around the place,” Andy replied as she handed them their glasses. Nile took hers and downed it immediately, she was _parched_. “I was here last time so there should be some clothes to wear somewhere.”

They went in search of them, Nile feeling like it was admitting defeat as Andy cooked, or more like reheated their previous meal which Nicky cooked in abundance.

They searched and in the end found some well preserved, if musty, clothes. Coincidentally, behind the door where Nile had bashed her head in that same morning. Nicky even made a comment, face serious as a heart attack, that the door had been previously stuck and Nile’s head must have had loosen it on impact.

“I’ll shake _you_ lose on impact,” she threatened nonsensically over Joe’s poorly concealed giggles. But her lips were already pushing upwards and the threat fell flat.

Inside, they found an inordinate amount of clothes, pants and shirts and what were probably undershirts or camisoles back then but could be repurposed as shirts today. It took her more than half an hour of rummaging to notice that there were no dresses. No petticoats, no corsets. Only suits with wonderful jackets and shirts. From the 19th century.

Nile was well aware than the modern, western concept of gender she had been raised in went far over Andromache of Scythia's head yet so she couldn’t help a snort thinking about what kind of trouble Andy must have had gotten up to back then dressing or maybe even presenting like a man. Probably stealing a lot of wives from under unsuspecting husband’s noses.

They found some breeches that were meant to be loose but with some cajoling could be made to fit Nicky or Joe’s thicker legs. The shirts were all of loose styles so they all fit them quite fine. Nile most definitely liberated a couple of embroidered jackets to take with her out of Uruguay. Those things were veritable works of art and who knew when she’d need to play the part of some eccentric hipster or something like that? It was good strategic thinking. The fact that they made her shoulders and waist look _impeccable_ had nothing to do with it. 

Nicky stepped into the kitchen to help set the table as Joe went to change and try to rid his beard and curls of the remaining sand and salt.

Nile, who had smartly taken a handkerchief to protect her braids from the flying sand and avoided getting into the water, was faring better. She joined the other two in the kitchen as well, her post-smoking appetite the winning force inside her at the moment.

They heard Joe coming down the stairs right as they finished plating the food. His footsteps reached the entryway and stopped at the sharp sound of cutlery being dropped on porcelain. Nile turned around from where she was fetching the water to find Nicky in his seat, still as a statue with his hand loosely opened from where it used to hold a fork that now laid forgotten. His gaze was focused on a way that she hadn’t seen before but that was for once, incredibly easy to discern. She followed his line of sight to find Joe standing at the threshold. He was wearing one of the loose white shirts, unlaced so a considerable portion of his chest was bare and the pair of too-right breeches that made Nile uncomfortable just from looking at them.

Tension hung thick in the air as Nile felt her body coil up reflexively even though there was no threat (except maybe to her pretty non-existent innocence). Andy’s drawl cut right through it.

“Aaaand that’s why I spent most of the 19th century with Booker.”

The comment succeeded in jolting the couple out of their stupor. The tension broke and Joe murmured something that sounded vaguely like an apology and mostly like a grumble at the current lack of privacy. Nicky still reeled him for a quick kiss before he sat down next to him and Nile threw her arms dramatically over her eyes at the sight.

“ _No!_ Think of the children!” She exclaimed, Andy cackled and joined in by adding her hands over her eyes and gasping. Joe chuckled, looking unrepentant but Nicky’s cheeks pinked lightly. When Joe noticed, his grin became even more delighted.

After dinner, Nile snagged a long chemise to sleep in from the liberated pile of clothes and tied her silk handkerchief over to protect her braids, feeling for all of the world like a horror movie spectre. Matching decaying house and everything. But hey, it beat sleeping in jeans or underwear on a summer night full of mosquitoes.

The temperature dropped with another weather shift and the humidity hung thick in the air when Nile first woke. It was way too early and with no immediate, pressing plans, she turned around in the bed and went back to sleep.

It started to rain sometime mid-morning and the rhythmic pitter-patter paired with the unusual quietness of the street lulled her into sleeping in. When she woke up, it was close to noon. She stretched, making her joints pop as she regained consciousness fully. Set on not embarrassing herself again with another tumble down the stairs she made sure to stop by the bathroom and wash her face before going in search of food.

She descended to the ground floor and went straight for the kitchen. Andy was at the stove, stirring something in a pot. For once, the heat of the wood burning wasn’t unwelcomed.

“Hey sleepy. There’s orange juice in that jug if you want some, I pressed it this morning.” Nile waved her hand in thanks, not ready for coherent speech yet and went to serve herself a teacup of it. The coffee had probably not survived the sponge that was Nicolò di Genova.

She grunted in surprise then she went to raise the jug, finding it heavier than she expected.

“I did all the oranges. Should have warned you, it’s a lot.”

“Hmm,” she took a sip, the sharp flavor turning some of her brain cells online. “Did you do the laundry then? I doubt it’ll dry with the rain now.”

Her back was to Andy but the pregnant silence was answer enough. Nile put the jug down with a thunk.

“ _Andy-_ ”

“What? I forgot! It’s just laundry and a stupid bet, not the end of the world!” She exclaimed, taking the pot out of the fire with a thunk.

“We have no clean suitable clothes!” Nile turned around to look at her, her frustration rearing its head.

“Do it yourself if you're so desperate then,” Andy shot back and the uncharacteristically petulant edge of her tone grated on Nile’s nerves.

“No!” She cut her off. “It’s basic cohabitation! _And_ you lost the bet! _You_ have to do it,” she threw her hands in the air. “It’s been a _week_ , Andy. Actually, _more_ than a week. It’s _one_ chore, how long can it take, a decade? I know the great Andromache of Scythia might not care for something as mundane as dirt but guess what? She doesn’t live alone! And some of us enjoy the earthly pleasure of a fresh, clean pair of damn jeans!” She finished off, hands raised mid gesture, agitated and still holding the ancient teacup by it’s delicate handle. 

Andy looked sort of angry for a second but Nile stared her down in all her Victorian-maid-who-just-woke-up glory. The moment hung suspended for a few seconds, both women sizing each other up, making Nile think back to their first fight in the smuggling plane all those months ago. This time, however, instead of cracking a jaw, Andy’s cracked a smile, terribly fond and almost emotional. Nile blinked at the unexpected turn.

“God kid, you really are something, huh?” Andy shook her head, voice raspy around a chuckle and Nile herself let go of her irritation in one exhale. In its place, she felt something warm and tight in her chest at this unbelievably old woman who at times scared her more than she’d ever admit by the simple act of existing, of being _real_. 

She had lived incomprehensible amounts of time but would only be the start of Nile’s own journey. She was still around and Nile already knew she’d miss her for however long she lived.

Andy spoke again as she came closer, “thousands of years on this Earth and time starts to lose its meaning, kid. I’ve forgotten what’s like to even care about it. Even now that my days are finally numbered it's a hard habit to break. Still got some things to learn I guess,” she winked at Nile from up close and hauled her in for a crushing hug.

They smelled, it was undeniable, their clothes a mix of dirty, old and musty. They hadn’t had a proper full-body shower in too long; but the circle of her strong arms was welcoming, loving, so Nile let the frustration melt from her frame and hugged her back just as tightly. Thankful that the position hid how watery her eyes had just gotten.

“I’ll do it this second, yeah? No more letting days trickle by, promise.”

“Please,” Nile chuckled, her smile pressed to the other woman’s shoulder. “We _reek_.”

Andy’s laughter was still ringing in her ears when the sound of the front door opening reached them. They separated and went to the living room to find Joe and Nicky returning from their battery-charging trip.

“Copley called, he got us the money,” Joe waved his phone and a thin stack of American dollars to illustrate his point. Nile frowned at the sight, thinking they’d have to swing by another exchange house yet again when Nicky spoke up. 

“And a job.” He shot a mournful gaze over their shoulders to all the preserved food they had managed to acquire that he would not get to cook. They usually managed to leave it to someone who needed it or donated in similar instances. “Transport is already arranged, he was just waiting to contact us.”

They barely caught their transport, delayed by Andy’s rusty hand-washing skills and the stubborn sun who refused to dry the garments, but no one complained. 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Things I googled while writing this (and learned more than I'll ever feasibly need to know irl):  
> \- the history of Uruguay's currency  
> \- the history of Montevideo's electricity grid  
> \- the history of Roquefort cheese  
> \- Uruguayan's peso exchange rates (my math is probably still terrible, blame an AU w different inflation rates if you want)  
> \- Uruguay's current prices for vegetables  
> \- places to visit in Ciudad Vieja  
> \- Uruguay's actual law for cannabis regulation (or how to buy legal pot in Uruguay)  
> \- Uruguay's standing extradition deals
> 
> Things I didn't google (bc we all have a limit) and ask you to not take my word for:  
> \- how long do fabrics hold in wooden compartments with no temperature control  
> \- how long do paper bills hold inside a metal box
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Drop a comment if you feel like it, I always reply and they make my day :)


End file.
